Elephant Dropping (9781301895199)

by Trzebinski, Bruce

‘Ha!’ Hassan growled. ‘You don’t want to tell me, but you expect me to tell you, you think I’m a fool? I can knock you out with one punch you shit, think I can’t buy my own beer. A maskini civil servant, while you, you big fat Mr. Manager, think I’m scared of you?’

  Evans decided it was time to leave. He stood up. Hassan also got to his feet. ‘You think you’re so tough?’

  ‘No, look I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend you,’ Evans, hurriedly backed away. Hassan made a grab for the manager and missed, falling across the table, knocking bottles and glasses flying.

  Evans put money on the bar top, and hastily exited the bar.

  Hassan yelled at him from the floor. ‘Motherfucker shit, come back here I will fix you!’

  Evans was shaken. ‘Jesus that guy is mad.’ He rang Azizza as he made for the parked car, only to spot her emerging from a shop, directing two men carrying a desk.

  ‘Oh Evans, what brings you here?’ she asked.

  ‘Was meeting a client,’ he muttered.

  She could smell the beer on his breath. ‘Oh a client?’

  ‘Yes, Nicholls wants to know when he can meet you?’

  ‘Well, when is he coming back to Malindi?’

  ‘I don’t know, he wants me to tell him when you can meet.’

  ‘I see, we should have the office ready, so tell him Wednesday.’

  ‘Office?’

  ‘Yes we are opening a new office for Golden Palm.’

  ‘Really, where?’

  ‘There.’ Azizza pointed across the square.

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Not long ago, Patel has just got back from Nairobi and he wants to talk about your car, we meet at our usual spot this evening.’

  Hassan emerged from the bar and called loudly across the square startling everyone. ‘Azizza I love you, my darling! And you stay away from my woman,’ he yelled at Evans.

  Evans made a hasty retreat round the other side of the car. Azizza waved at Hassan and stared at Evans. ‘A client eh?’She quickly got into the car and drove off, smiling in Hassan’s direction.

  *

  Evans arrived late at the nightclub and was pleased to see Patel’s Landcruiser parked alongside his Mercedes. He ran his fat fingers across the silver sedan’s roof possessively. He joined Patel and Azizza at their usual table. Shaking hands with Patel and nodding at Azizza, he sat down. ‘So what’s this about an office?’

  ‘Yes, we have taken office space in the Malindi Square, because of your friend Nicholls.’ Patel grinned. ‘By the way, do you know when he is due back in Malindi?’

  ‘I called him, he is planning to drive down on Sunday.’

  ‘Driving? In what car?’

  ‘The bank’s car, it’s a Range Rover.’

  ‘Do you know the car’s registration number?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Evans, ‘but I can find out.’

  ‘Good, and whilst we are on the subject of cars,’ he handed over some official looking documents, ‘congratulations, the Mercedes is now in your name.’

  Evans eagerly scanned the papers, beaming a thank you and tucking them into his jacket. ‘And the keys?’

  Patel shook his head. ‘You can’t have the car yet.’

  ‘Why not?’ Evans demanded.

  ‘Because of Nicholls.’

  ‘It’s none of his business what car I’m driving,’ his voice rising.

  Patel said evenly. ‘Really Evans, stop being difficult, we have already had this conversation. How could someone on your salary afford a car like that?’

  ‘My wife could have bought it for me, what does it matter?’

  ‘Azizza has told me about your wife. I’m going to lend you my Landcruiser, so you will have wheels.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, but when do I get the Mercedes?’

  ‘Once we have completed this project.’ Patel slid over the keys to the Landcruiser.

  ‘And when will that be?’ Evans pocketed the keys.

  ‘In about six months. As you can see, the car is in your name, it’s not a gift. Payment will come from your cut.’

  Evans, although pleased to have the Landcruiser, was annoyed; he had assumed the game had shifted in his favour with the signing of the papers. ‘Six months, that’s far too long.’

  ‘Mr. Manager wake up. It’s very important that you keep a low profile, be patient.’ Evans nursed his beer looking disgruntled.

  ‘We would like to know what you were doing talking to Hassan this afternoon. Azizza tells me Hassan doesn’t like you. What have you been telling him?’Patel probed.

  Evans frowned. ‘Nothing, I went in there for a beer. Hassan was drunk and told me he worked at the land office. I had no idea until he saw Azizza, then he told me she was giving him money.’

  Patel was watching him closely. ‘You stay away from Hassan that is Azizza’s department. You have no business communicating with him, is that clear?’

  ‘Look, it was just a coincidence, the man was drunk.’

  ‘Well don’t make another “meeting a client” coincidence like that one.’ Azizza rebuked him.

  Evans retaliated and shot back. ‘He says he loves you.’

  ‘He had better get in line.’ She pouted in satisfaction.

  Patel grinned. ‘How do you do it my dear?’ he teased.

  ‘It’s my hot, Arab blood,’ she said, ‘it’s irresistible.’

  Patel drained his beer. ‘It’s been a long day,’ he announced standing up, ‘I’m off to bed, Evans drive carefully it’s a big car.’

  Azizza and Evans sat in awkward silence. Evans studied the bubbles in his beer, while Azizza watched the dancers. She was the first to break the silence. ‘So you now have two cars, happy now?’

  Evans nodded. ‘Listen, about that maneno with Hassan, until he told me. I really didn’t know who he was.’

  Azizza shrugged. ‘Bad luck then. Hassan gets very aggressive when he is drunk. Was there anyone else in the bar?’

  ‘No, just the barmaid.’

  She stood up. ’What do you want to do about the car? Want me to follow you back to your house?’

  ‘No, I’m not ready to leave. I was going to order some food, will you join me?’ Azizza shook her head.

  Evans smiled. ‘Bring the Landcruiser to the bank tomorrow, I can get my wife to give me a lift to work.’ He handed her the keys.

  ‘Ok.’ She said, leaving her drink. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Evans watched her walk away, the slight sway of her hips entrancing him. He grinned to himself, that poor bugger Hassan! He tipped the remains of Azizza’s beer in his glass. Calling a waiter over, he ordered roast meat and another beer.

  *

  Lucy sitting up at the bar, had been keenly observing the three of them as they had their meeting, recognising Evans when he entered the nightclub. She wondered who the Arab woman was and the Indian. Adept at reading body language, she worked out the hierarchy. The Indian was very much the leader, as he left she followed and watched him climb into the Mercedes. Later she followed the woman and watched her drive a white Landcruiser.

  Lucy waited until Evans was alone and tucking into his plate of food, before approaching the table and addressing him in Kiswahili. ‘Hey you, handsome, do you remember me?’

  Evans looked up from his plate, recognising her from the police station and he scowled. ‘What do you want ehh?’ He asked rudely.

  ‘Nothing, was just saying hello. Is that a crime?’ She smiled provocatively at him.

  ‘So hello, and goodbye,’ Evans retorted.

  ‘Hey, I’m hungry, don’t be so mean,’ she pouted.

  ‘I’m not your father to feed you. Get lost.’

  ‘All alone, by yourself are you a shoga? You don’t look like one,’ Lucy decided pulling up a chair and sitting down.

  ‘Watch your mouth, that chair is taken. My girlfriend is coming back in a few minutes, you better move,’ he warned.

  ‘I could be your girlfriend,’ Lucy offered. ‘You look like you need a f
uck.’ She wiggled in her chair, pushing her hips out towards him.

  Evans couldn’t help looking. ‘Hey sister, I’m not a shoga and I’m not looking for any action, so don’t waste your time. Ok.’

  ‘Ok, buy me a beer then,’ Lucy countered.

  ‘If I buy you a beer, will you leave me in peace?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said running her tongue over her lower lip, and smiling at the reaction on his face. She reached out and pinched a cube of meat off his plate. She put this between her teeth and winked at him. ‘Mmm nice taste what will you do with all that energy? Your wife I suppose,’ arching her eyebrows.

  ‘Don’t do that again,’ Evans warned waving a fork at her, ‘how do you know I’m married?’

  ‘Handsome, prosperous man like you, must have a wife. How about that beer, you bull.’

  Evans grinned. He knew the game but was charmed by her cheek. ‘Alright, one beer then you go, ok?’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Handsome. What is your name? Mine is Lucy.’

  Evans ordered a beer, his eyes watching Lucy lustily, as he finished his food.

  ‘No name? Ok I will call you Bull. Where is that mzungu you were with, that day from the police? Birin.’ She asked.

  ‘He is in Nairobi.’

  ‘He is your boss, he liked me. He paid my fine at the police station, a kind man, eh?’

  ‘Yes, he is a nice man.’

  ‘Do you have his mobile number?’

  ‘I wouldn’t give it to you,’ Evans stated, picking his teeth.

  ‘What would you like to give me then, Mr Bull?’ Lucy asked, stroking her thigh, her dress riding up, a glimpse of white panties.

  ‘I told you, I’m not interested,’ repeated Evans.

  Lucy got up and moved to a chair next to Evans. ‘The music,’ she breathed in his ear, ‘is so loud. What did you say you’re interested in?’Her hand fell casually onto his lap.

  Evans said. ‘The deal was one beer, and then you go.’

  She leaned forward so he could look over the top of her dress at her breasts. ‘Ahh, a bull man like you, not interested in a beautiful woman like me,’ she pushed her hand into his crutch squeezing a response from him.

  He leaned forward his eyes glazing. ‘Stop that,’ he gasped.

  ‘Let’s go to your car,’ licking her lips. ‘You do have a car?’

  Evans aroused, wanted her, despite his resolve. ‘What are you going to charge?’ he spluttered.

  Lucy moved away from him, confident she now had him. ‘You know what I want, that phone number.’

  ‘I can’t give out my boss’s number to strangers.’

  Lucy, sucked on the end of her beer bottle. ‘I’m not a stranger; he likes me, like you. I can tell.’

  ‘I can give you money,’ Evans offered.

  Lucy shook her head, crossing her legs and moving her body away from him. ‘No.’

  Evans capitulated. ‘Listen, if I give you the number, will you promise not to tell him who gave it to you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she smiled confidently.

  ‘Ok, let’s go to my car.’

  ‘I haven’t finished my beer,’ Lucy said swaying to the music, ‘how do I know you will give me the right number?’

  ‘You want to call him right now?’ Evans asked frowning.

  ‘Sure, just to hear his voice, so I know you’re not cheating me.

  Come on you bull don’t waste time.’ She put her hand back on his crutch. ‘Just give me the number.’

  Evans was torn and he hesitated, and then took out his mobile phone. ‘Do you have a pen and paper?’

  Lucy whipped out her mobile from her bag. ‘Read it out to me.’ She called, the number rang twice and then switched over to an answer machine. She strained to hear, and smiled as she heard Brian’s voice. She clicked off. ‘Heh, Birin,’ she said in satisfaction.

  ‘Ok, you happy now? Remember your promise.’

  Lucy nodded. ‘No problem, which is your car?’

  Evans told her.

  ‘Ok, I meet you at the car. I go to the toilet,’ she stood up.

  ‘Wait,’ Evans protested.

  ‘You want to be seen leaving with me?’She was all business now. ‘Ok wait here.’

  ‘No, you’re right. Come to the car,’ he agreed.

  Lucy walked off towards the toilets. Evans impatiently paid his bill and hurried out to his car. After twenty minutes, angry and frustrated he walked back into the bar. Lucy was nowhere to be seen. He drove out aggressively swearing rudely at the askari, refusing to tip him.

  The bouncer went into his office. ‘It’s ok, sista, he’s gone.’

  ‘Thanks bro,’ Lucy grabbed his muscular arm in a friendly hug.

  Evans got back home still fuming, his wife and kids fast asleep. Taking a beer from the fridge he sat on the sofa, and leafed through the Mercedes documents carefully reading every line, making sure there were no anomalies. The car was his alright, indisputably his.

  One thing was clear; Patel was definitely worried about Nicholls - new offices, NGO organisations, whatever next?

  The fraud was getting more and more elaborate and without him, they could do nothing, yet they treated him like he was a junior partner. Evans drank his beer feeling bloody minded over this gross injustice. And they have taken away my car - why - because of Nicholls? As Patel had pointed out, he was just an innocent victim of a bank hoax. There was nothing to link him to the Golden Palm other than he being the manager. Evans kicked off his shoes and adjusted the cushions on the sofa, methodically sipping the beer as a plan began to form in his mind. Of course it is so obvious, that damn muhindi is not so smart after all. He fell asleep on the sofa, dreaming of silver coloured Mercedes and sexy ladies dressed like Azizza.

  *

  He woke up to find his wife standing over him with a cup of tea. ‘Where were you last night? You smell like a brewery.’

  He grunted a reply and took the cup of tea, almost spilling it as it seared his lips. ‘Ohh is hot,’ he muttered.

  ‘Explain?’ She asked hands on hips.

  ‘Leave me in peace, woman,’ Evans growled. ‘I had an important meeting. Let me wake up first.’

  ‘Oh really, so where’s the car?’

  ‘You can take the Toyota, I have made arrangements. Now let me finish my tea!’ he barked.

  Evans braved his wife’s driving as she weaved imperiously in and out of traffic, always in the wrong gear. She turned in at the ‘Out’ sign of the bank car park, stopping abruptly. He got out without saying a word, and strode into the bank.

  Once in his office Evans opened the file for Golden Palm and studied the figures. He made calculations and worked out percentages. He intended to confront Azizza that morning and wanted to be sure of his ground. Satisfied, he settled down to wait for her, he was going to teach those two a lesson. For far too long he had put up with their demands, it was time to make a few of his own.

  When Azizza came to drop off the keys, Florence told her that Evans needed to see her.

  ‘I’m really very busy,’ Azizza said. ‘Here are the car keys.’

  ‘I’m sorry, madam, he insists you see him,’ Florence repeated.

  Azizza entered Evans office, holding out the keys. ‘Here you go,’ Mr. Big Shot.’

  ‘Oh good, I’m glad you have come, sit down,’ he pointed at a chair, crossing the office to close the door and blocking her exit. ‘There are things I need to discuss with you.’

  Azizza remained standing. ‘Evans, I’m in a big hurry, what do you want?’

  ‘Take a seat and I will tell you. It won’t take long.’

  She sat down with ill grace. ‘Speak then.’

  He took a moment to compose himself. ‘I need you to talk to Patel. I don’t feel that I’m getting enough out of this deal considering my position. Without me there is nothing Golden Palm can do and I feel my cut should represent my importance. I have gone over the figures and I think the profits should be split more evenly.’

  Azizza frowned.
‘What do you mean more evenly? How do you know what the profit margin is?’

  ‘I’m a bank manager,’ Evans explained, waving an arm round his office. ‘I work in figures all day long. I got a first in mathematics at university. I know all about profit margins.’

  ‘If you want a bigger cut, it means I get a smaller one. I don’t like the idea of that at all,’ she replied, ‘and you’re not doing anything extra for your cut, are you?’

  ‘Yes, but I could do nothing at all and then no one would get a cut,’ he smiled triumphantly.

  Azizza frowned at him. ‘You want to shake us down, now?’

  ‘No, it’s not like that, I want my talent recognised.’

  ‘Talent to expose us? You will also suffer if you do.’

  ‘I don’t think so, I will merely explain to Nicholls how I was duped by a couple of confidence tricksters. It happens all the time to bank managers. You, on the other hand, will definitely go to jail -and your smart friend.’

  Azizza was struggling to understand Evans’s logic. ‘Let’s be sure we are on the same page. Unless you get a bigger cut, you are prepared to sabotage the scheme, despite the risks to yourself?’

  ‘No not sabotage, it does not have to go so far, you only need to tell Patel he has to start treating me right.’

  Azizza got up. ‘I’ve heard enough of this rubbish; you can tell him yourself. I’m not your damn messenger.’ She angrily tossed the car keys on his desk and strode out of the office.

  Evans was daunted at the prospect of confronting Patel. Still, he reasoned, he had managed to get his message across.

  Azizza was shaking with anger as she got out to the car park. ‘Bastard,’ she muttered under her breath. Despite telling Evans to contact Patel himself, she knew that he knew she would relay his message. She called on her mobile. ‘I need to talk to you, it’s Evans,’ she explained.

  ‘Ok, let’s meet for lunch, the usual spot.’

  The curry house was where Patel liked to have his crisis meetings. Somehow the familiar smells and tacky furniture reminded him of his childhood home. Azizza arrived looking worried.

  ‘I have ordered for you,’ he announced.

  ‘Has Evans called you?’ she asked.

  Patel shook his head crunching on a samosa. ‘What does our greedy friend want now, he already has my car.’